Jigsaw
Here we hear that a perch stands for fish or for pole, -
though this pole can be twenty four feet long or square –
or a pole upon which
a kingfisher can perch
before diving to fish for his dinner dish.
Don’t consider it rude if we add that a rood
is the same as a perch, or a pole or a rod,
and a rood is a Cross, so please don’t become cross
as we must get across that this cross can be square, -
and this square cross can lengthwise be measured – so there!
A pole, too, is a fish, somewhat flounderish
with fine fins which swish and a face like a dish.
Thus kingfisher must fish for his dish, and that dish is a dish,
so lets face it in anguish, - a dish is a dish is a fish!
As a face is a head, and a head is a poll
which tells who is ahead, or shows what each prole
thought of what someone said:
and a wat, as all know, is a temple Cambo –
all the sages who sow seeds of wisdom say, - oh,
to all this don’t say ‘No! ’
Then watt brings us a light which shines down in the night, -
though this seems ‘out of sight’, you should now see the light, -
that kingfishers alight as they perch on their pole
ere they pounce on their poll
for to search for their perch,
for the soul of the sole in the shoal.
What rude fishermen do
before rod poles align
with a line from their perch to their perch.
Like the kingfisher too, bird of brilliant hue,
is our parrot, Poll, who is no stranger to you.
When he’s not being rude he tends somewhat to brood
or repeat through and through, as in these lines I do.
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Icthus (JS#5)
Epiphany 5
Many fishes
Jesus fishes
Peter no fish
Jesus “pish pish “
Peter empty dish
Jesus full dish
Peter bare dish
Jesus extra dish
Peter one dish
Jesus many dishes
Peter fish
Jesus fishes
B.C. fish
A.D. fishes
B.C. Moses
A.D. Jesus
poem by James Hart
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Perch Non Piangi Per Me
RISCHI!?!
E quando mai
Vizi!?!
E cosa vuoi
Ogni tanto vuoi qualcuno che
Che ti porti a letto b
Ah!?
SEI TRISTE!?!
E come mai
AMI!?!
Solo lui
Non ci posso proprio credere
Che
Tu mi stai addirittura piangere!!!
PERCH NON PIANGI PER ME!!!
PERCH NON PIANGI PER ME!!!
PERCH NON PIANGI PER ME!!! baby
SOFFRI!?!
E come mai
AMI!?!
Solo lui
Ogni tanto vuoi qualcuno
Che
Che mi stai addirittura piangere!!!
PERCH NON PIANGI PER ME!!!
PERCH NON PIANGI PER ME!!!
PERCH NON PIANGI PER ME!!! baby
PERCH NON PIANGI PER ME!!!
PERCH NON PIANGI PER ME!!!
PERCH NON PIANGI PER ME!!! baby
PERCH NON PIANGI!!!
PERCH NON PIANGI!!!
PERCH NON PIANGI PER ME!!!
PERCH NON PIANGI PER ME!!!
PERCH NON PIANGI PER ME!!! baby
PERCH NON PIANGI PER ME!!!
PERCH NON PIANGI PER ME!!!
PERCH NON PIANGI PER ME!!! baby
song performed by by Vasco Rossi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fisherman's Boat
I am tied to a pole
In me came and sat a fisherman with a big mole
He had a fishing rod and a net
With a bucket and bait so wet
He untied me and rowed me
Into the deep sea
And with rod, net and bait
He caught fish till late
He went home with a big fish
To prepare and eat a tasty dish
Tomorrow again he’ll come wearing his overcoat
To untie me, his little fishing boat.
poem by Niharika Singh
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A Nonsense Poem - a Villanelle
A little mouse sings in a bowl
A little fish runs on a wheel
A little worm hops in a hole
A little hat has lost its sole
A little petal has no peel
A little mouse sings in a bowl
A little dog dances a reel
A little frog jumps on a mole
A little fish runs on a wheel
A little boat rings out a peal
A little bell loses its keel
A little mouse sings in a bowl
A little rock slips on a seal
A little perch walks on a pole
A little fish runs on a wheel
A little card shakes on a deal
A little sigh fancies a meal
A little mouse sings in a bowl
A little fish runs on a wheel
poem by Alison Cassidy
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The Whale
The Whale that wanders round the Pole
Is not a table fish.
You cannot bake or boil him whole
Nor serve him in a dish;
But you may cut his blubber up
And melt it down for oil.
And so replace the colza bean
(A product of the soil).
These facts should all be noted down
And ruminated on,
By every boy in Oxford town
Who wants to be a Don.
poem by Hilaire Belloc
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Let the kite hawk have a perch, and let the eagle also have a perch. Whichever begrudges the other the right to perch, may he break a wing.
I Like Birds
I cant look at the rocket launch
The trophy wives of the astronauts
And I wont listen to their words
cause I like
Birds
I dont care for walkin downtown
Crazy auto-car gonna mow me down
Look at all the people like cows in a herd
Well, I like
Birds
If youre small and on a search
Ive got a feeder for you to perch on
I cant stand in line at the store
The mean little people are such a bore
But its alright if you act like a turd
cause I like
Birds
If youre small and on a search
Ive got a feeder for you to perch on
Ive got a feeder for you to perch on
If youre small and on a search
Ive got a feeder for you to perch on
Ive got a feeder for you to perch on
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Animal Rights (A Restaurant Sold Fried Fish Cruelly)
In Taiwan, there was a restaurant,
sale promotion gimmick of which was very abhorrent.
It was a smoky fried fish,
a spicy and good -smelled dish.
There was a glass fish pond,
swimming in it were fish...big, fat and long.
Beside it was a fish net,
by which the chef would catch.
Then he quickly removed the scale with a knife,
and on the body he cut and sprinkled with salt and spice,
while the fish was still alive.
Then with wet towel he grabbed the fish head,
while the gill huffing and puffing to catch the breath.
Into the sizzling hot oil, the body was slowly dipped,
which in painful agony, flapped and flipped.
The fish struggled in a desperate attempt,
causing the hot oil to splash,
onto the chef's hand,
making him cry in pain as if the world was going to end.
Before the fried fish was going to be served,
he put into the mouth of it the lighted cigarette,
an act so sickening,
horrifying and disgusting.
Then the Animal Rights Group lodged a strong protest.
The chef was afraid his business got into the red.
removed that dish from the list of menu.
He was almost legally sued,
making his mood get into the blue.
The chef sells the fish in a way so cruel and selfish,
to the animals he shows pity, not a little bit.
Gefilte Fish
My version of a Jewish folk song;
the 2nd stanza should start slow,
then get faster & faster to the end.
Gefilte fish, I love you;
I love you, gefilte fish;
I swear by the stars above you,
You're such a tasty dish,
Hey!
You once were free
Out in the sea,
Until somebody caught you,
But now, wise guy,
'You'll see that I
Will eat you 'cause I bought you,
Hey!
Gefilte fish, I love you
I love you, gefilte fish
I swear by the stars above you
You're such a tasty dish,
hey!
poem by John Bliven Morin
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A Delicious Fish's Wishes
Fish, fish, what do you wish?
To each his own,
BUT
I wish
for a fish
on a dish
(mmm... delish!)
'Ah, pish! '
says the darned fish.
'I wish to be
in the sea
swimming free
and...
perhaps...
drinking...
so me...
tea? '
(muttered he,
dreamily.)
'But all in all, just me being me.'
But suddenly!
A bee
stung me
on the knee
(ouch! said I. er, me)
Back to earth with Bree!
And I'm left to wonder
If me the fish would berate
Were he not lying postrate
dead
on my plate...
poem by Breanna Cazalet
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A Whale Of A Poem
Recently,
As stories go,
A tale was told,
About an old man,
And a fish,
He really wasn't a real fish!
He was a whale you know!
Anyways,
It seems that fish shallowed the man,
And inside the fish he did live,
Seven days and seven nights.
Oh what a fright,
That man did go through,
He inside of a fish,
Could have easily ended up his dish.
That story although a whopper,
I thought could not have been top,
Except in the second grade,
A student chimed in,
Oh great, now I know where my dad has been!
poem by Nadalia Bagratuni
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The seagull on its perch pole
Above the water
Naked we slowly enter
haiku by Tommy Stroller
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Your Fishing Pole
There is something about you, something in your soul
something that seems to surround your fishing pole….
You moved to the coast, now that’s no lie
And we had a hard time with that little goodbye
But no need for heartache, no need to console
You had your boat and your fishing pole.
You know everyday you go out to fish
it’s like a genie granting every little wish
every time that bobber goes out of control
we know you are happy with your fishing pole.
Now on birthdays it’s special out on the water
I hear if you’re there, they’ll jump for the slaughter
You’ll be piling them in like your lucks on a roll
Reeling them in with your fishing pole
So today of all days take heed and relax
Pack up a cooler with drinks and some snacks
put on your shoes and go take a stroll
Down to your boat with your fishing pole.
poem by Kathleen J. Shields
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Mi Piaci Perch
Mi piaci perch sei sporca,
perch sei sporca
mi piaci perch sei falsa, perch sei falsa
mi piaci perch sei porca, perch sei porca
mi piaci perch sei bugiarda,
perch sei bugiarda!!!
Mi piaci di pi, mi piaci di pi
mi piaci di pi, mi piaci di pi
mi piaci di pi, mi piaci di pi!
Mi piaci perch sei bella, perch sei bella
mi piaci perch sei bionda,
perch sei bionda
mi piaci perch sei donna, perch sei donna
mi piaci perch c'hai la gonna,
perch c'hai la gonna!!!
Mi piaci di pi, mi piaci di pi
mi piaci di pi, mi piaci di pi
mi piaci di pi, mi piaci di pi!
Mi piaci perch sei sporca,
perch sei sporca
mi piaci perch sei porca, perch sei porca
mi piaci perch sei falsa, perch sei falsa
mi piaci perch sei bastarda,
perch sei bastarda!!!
Mi piaci di pi, mi piaci di pi
mi piaci di pi, mi piaci di pi
mi piaci di pi, mi piaci di pi!
song performed by by Vasco Rossi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On A Perch
Maintaining to remain on a perch,
Idealized with lofty eyes...
That sustains with decades of comforts,
And entitlements fixed unchanged...
Leaves,
More minds commuting...
From,
Bright sunshine with rainbows...
To massages by a pool.
With servants there to rule.
But too many have been slipping from this perch.
To see reality.
And even from this perch it hurts.
More minds commuting...
From,
Bright sunshine with rainbows...
To massages by a pool.
With servants there to rule.
But...
Too many have been slipping from this perch.
To see reality.
And even from this perch it hurts.
Reality...
Can hurt one on a perch.
Reality...
Is best seen when one sits on Earth.
Reality...
Can hurt one on a perch.
Reality...
Is best seen when delusions are done.
And truth is not demeaned.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Brain Food
An Urang-utan lived in a tree
at the top for he wanted to see.
He spent most of each day
climbing up the down way
twas each time when he needed to pee.
On a Sunday, it was around nine
he was just getting ready to dine,
when a bird dropped a fish
right into his dish
and it tasted like fish and devine.
Fish is brain food, that's factual, you see,
for big apes who reside in a tree,
thus this fish did bestow
what a human would know:
He could pee from the top of the tree.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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The Digger's Song
Scrape the bottom of the hole: gather up the stuff,
Fossick in the crannies, lest you leave a grain
behind,
Just another shovelful and that'll be enough,-
Now we'll take it to the bank and see what we can
find,
Give the dish a twirl around,
Let the water swirl around,
Gently let it circulate, there's music in the swish,
And the tinkle of the gravel,
As the pebbles quickly travel
Around in merry circles on the bottom of the dish.
Ah, if man could only wash his life, if he only could,
Panning off the evil deeds, keeping but the
good,
What a mighty lot of digger's dishes would be sold,
Though I fear the heap of tailings would be greater
than the gold,
Give the dish a twirl around,
Let the water swirl around,
Man's the sport of circumstance however he may
wish,
Fortune! are you there now?
Answer to my prayer now,
And drop a half ounce nugget in the bottom of
the dish.
Gently let the water lap, keep the corners dry,
That's about the place the gold will generally stay,
What was that bright particle that just then
caught my eye?
I fear me by the look of things 'twas only yellow
clay,
Just another twirl around,
Let the water swirl around,
That's the way we rob the river of its golden fish,
What's that? can't we snare a one?
Don't say that there's ne'er a one,
Bah, there's not a colour in the bottom of the dish.
poem by Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
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Flaming Dragon Curry
On the menu, I spotted Flaming Dragon Curry,
But, to try this dish, I am in no particular hurry;
It has onions, red peppers, and chicken (diced) ,
Steeped in seasoning, herbs, and Indian spice.
I'd probably be sitting there with streaming eyes:
For me to try this dish, I think, would not be wise.
As well as watery eyes, my mouth would be on fire;
Neither of which is a sensation I particularly desire.
Five red chillies indicated it was the hottest dish there;
Certainly way too hot for my taste-buds to ever bear.
I consider that this curry is only for the very brave;
It is certainly not a dish that I would ever crave.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Cyclic And Self Referencing Chant of I
I sat alone on a perch of stone beneath the sun
And thought about I as my neck bent back
and pitched my head up toward the sky
It reflected me back down, down to the ground
As I reached out toward the sky In hopes
Of capturing that mythical pie
To do it now or surely die
I, thought about I beneath the sky
I sat alone on a perch of stone
forever now I have wished I could fly
I could try but surely die
try and surely die
And I sat alone on perch of stone
I sat alone
Having forgotten home
alone
I
poem by Maynard Hartman
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A Poem of Hunting, Fishing, and a Truck
I throw my gun in the back of my truck
With it I hope to kill a 12-point buck
While in the woods, BANG! I see the deer fall
I take him home, freeze the meat, and mount his horns on my wall
I grab my pole and tackle box and head to the lake
At this time in the morning, I feel barely awake
There is no school today, I’m glad there is no class
A mighty tug on my line, I hook a large mouth bass
There is nothing like hunting; waiting for the kill
Cutting and cleaning the meat my freezer I’ll soon fill
Deer steaks and deer jerky have such a great taste
And with his head on my wall nothing goes to waste
I like fishing, fishing is fun
Fishing underneath the rising sun
I like catching the fish and putting them in a net
Fish is a great dish when the table is set
My truck is unstoppable; it can’t beat
I slam the door and strap myself in the seat
I start the engine and press the gas to the floor
My truck takes off and my engine lets out a roar
I wouldn’t be able to hunt or fish if it wasn’t for my truck
With it I carry poles, guns, and my fallen buck
I pull my boat with my truck in four-wheel-drive
At my destination I always arrive
poem by Glaedr the poet
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